Rich walked in from getting the mail today bearing a suspicious look. "Why are you getting something from the Essex County Sherriff's Department?" he asked, handing me a white official-looking envelope with a Salem address. "I don't know," I answered calmly, looking at my own name and address, which were written in a very neat, feminine hand.
Unpaid parking tickets from my previous working life? No, I remember standing in line at Salem City Hall and writing a very big check for all those. Jury duty? Couldn't be that either. I had just been called over the summer.
Rich gave me another doubtful look (what the hell does he think I do when he's at work?) as I tore open the envelope.
"Shit, who the hell is suing me?" At first, all I noticed was the familiar form (I used to review these all the time in a previous job) and my name. It's funny what the eyes choose to see when the mind is scared and confused.